


waltz

by demios



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Post-Game AU, Spoilers, canon pairings are there just not focused on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: Castle Rigel isn't a home to Celica.





	waltz

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a break from something else so if it seems a little like word vomit, that's because it is. also, it's probably not a good idea for me to take on four characters that are difficult to write, but,

Rigel is cold.

Celica has never experienced the cold to this extent - the sun-drenched villa, the lush forest of Ram, and the sea-cradled Novis all were relatively temperate in comparison to the climate of northern Rigel. The bitterly frigid air is a shock, especially in the northernmost part of the continent, where the castle lies. Alm once said the cold felt familiar to him, but no matter how many times she’s visited, Celica doesn’t think she’ll find a home in it.

She rubs her arms again, trying to quell the shivers that pass through her. There are torches protruding from walls of dark stone and the cloak she dons is lined with fur, so why is it that she cannot stop shivering? It had been difficult to focus during the council meeting as well - the onset of a Rigelian winter made it somewhat of a challenge for Celica to maintain her composure while explaining her most recent proposal. She makes a note to extend the invitation from Zofia Castle next time to spare herself the chill.

Conrad’s gaze is watchful as he accompanies her through the halls. “Anthiese, are you sure you're warm enough? I can fetch you another cloak if need be. Or,” He stretches one arm out and lets the fabric hanging across his shoulders drape from it like a wing. “You could use mine.”

“Aren't you using it yourself, Conrad?” Celica’s brow furrows in concern. Her brother is always prone to putting her wellbeing before his own. “I wouldn't want you to be cold.”

“We can share,” he says, the hint of mischief in his eye. Without warning, he envelopes Celica in his own cloak from behind and rests his head atop of hers.

Celica stiffens at the unexpected contact, then relaxes as she feels the warmth of Conrad’s cloak surround her. “I’m fine, I assure you. Thank you.” Two people make for a snug fit, as well as make it impossible to walk.

“But we’re twice as warm this way.” The smile is evident in Conrad’s voice, even if his sister can’t see it. “I may just fall asleep on you, Anthiese. You make for a comfortable pillow.”

“I’d rather you not. You’re quite heavy already.” She giggles, but makes no move to escape from his hold until a familiar figure approaches from the other end of the hall. Conrad seems to have noticed too, because he pulls back and returns to proper decorum posthaste.

The foreboding click of heels echoes through Rigel Castle’s halls, its owner stopping just before Celica with a joyless expression. Lord Berkut of Rigel towers over her, clad in dark armor and a palpable stoicism.

Alm had many a skirmish with the Rigelian prince before they finally reached an armistice to purge Duma’s corrupted vessel. Afterwards, their relationship with the man had been… tentative. Berkut begrudgingly allowed Alm to ascend the throne after acknowledging his worth. That isn’t to say Berkut relinquished his views on power - he frequently challenged the king to sparring matches to test his might. Celica found it bordering on uncouth, but Alm happily indulged him. Alm confessed he hoped to become closer to Berkut, and perhaps they could think of each other as kin one day.

Through the meeting of steel, he insisted that Berkut is a skilled fighter and honorable man in spite of his past actions. Celica knows Alm strives to find the good in people - especially his only remaining family - but she is unsure of what to think, as Berkut spends most council meetings and joint dinners looking bored or irritated with their proposals for the new kingdom.

Celica is cautious; though he was emperor of all Valentia, Alm let Berkut guide the northern half of the continent because of his prior influence and relationship with Rigel’s people. But their ideals often clashed in the worst of ways, Celica finds. One part of her supposes it is beneficial to have more than one viewpoint, but the other often finds it exhausting because Berkut was never taught to yield.

“Queen Anthiese.” The greeting is accompanied by a bow of his head. “It is a pleasure to receive you at the castle once more.” His face betrays no indication of the aforementioned pleasure from underneath his bangs.

Rinea, who had been walking alongside him, gives a small curtsy before her. “Your Majesty.”

“And it is a pleasure to be here, Lord Berkut, Lady Rinea.” Celica gives the both of them a small nod. She feels there is a certain fragility in their meeting. Berkut, of course, shatters it like a wine glass.

“I must say,” Berkut brings one gloved hand to his chin. “Whenever the council convenes, you always come up with the most… _convoluted_ solutions. Were you not a gifted tactician during your pilgrimage?”

Conrad immediately bristles beside her at the remark. He and Berkut’s sharp tongue have never gotten along well.

“War is not the same as peace.” Celica calmly explains before Conrad can intervene.“I do admit they can be idealistic at times, but I only wish the best for our people. Surely you share the same sentiment.”

“Indeed. Rigel has been struck with famine and strife without reprieve, and I only desire to see her flourish once more. I have a duty to her people and I will see it through.” Berkut’s words sound like her own and, not for the first time, she wonders how they could appear to be like water and oil.

“However,” he continues, a dulled disgust upon his face. “Zofian ideals from those weaned in Mila’s bosom may not be the best for the people of Rigel.” And, well, Celica supposes that is the reason why.

“Need I remind you the Father’s guidance has proven to have its own share of flaws as well,” Celica says stiffly. “We needn’t discard all lingering dichotomy, but rather find a path that uses what good intentions have been passed to us from both the Mother and Father. And, of course, our own intentions as well.”

That was the reason the One Kingdom was established, so they could forge a future with their own hands with the blessing of their past gods. Celica is prepared to aid the kingdom wronged by her father in any way possible, but Berkut’s rigidity is an obstacle, and a frustrating one at that.

“Intentions will only get you so far.” He replies sharply, his keen gaze boring into Celica.

Celica doesn’t hesitate to counter with a cold logic of her own, meeting Berkut head on. “And brute force will get you even less.”

Conrad finally speaks, his tone even but edging towards a rare instance of agitation. “With all due respect, Lord Berkut, but need you make it your priority to antagonize Queen Anthiese every time you cross paths?”

“I simply speak my mind with the utmost reverence. I’ve no intention cut her down.” Somehow, Berkut’s expression does not match his words, Celica notices. “Unless, you would like to take her place?”

“Just what are you insinuating?” Disbelief and suspicion contort her brother’s normally pleasant features. Celica thinks he would be holding Berkut at lancepoint if it weren't for the fact he was unarmed.

“Tell me, Prince Conrad, would you like to engage in a bout of sparring?” A sneer creeps onto Berkut’s lips. “His Majesty is waiting for me at the training grounds. You are more than welcome to join us. That is, if you are confident you are able to keep your foothold on the battlefield.”

“I am _more_ than confident.” Conrad’s voice is firm in the face of Berkut’s taunt. “I may have taken up a quill in place of a lance, but rest assured my skills haven’t rusted away.”

“We shall put your claim to the test.” Berkut turns to Celica and bows again. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty.” He sets off the the direction of the training grounds and beckons Conrad with one hand.

Once Berkut is far away enough, Conrad deflates with a sigh. He gives Celica an apologetic look, looking rather dejected at his own performance. “Forgive me, Anthiese. I feel as though I’ve gotten carried away…”

“Still, you mustn't keep Lord Berkut waiting.” Celica gives him a soft smile. “And I have faith that your lance will secure a fine victory.”

The encouragement seems enough to make her brother perk up. “I won’t be long, I promise.” With that, Conrad follows the prince down the grand halls of the castle.

“Ah, Queen Anthiese...” Rinea fidgets, hands clasping and unclasping as she wilts in the presence of the Queen. Celica had almost forgotten about her, Berkut’s presence nearly smothering with its arrogance. She turns towards the other girl, finding her lovely appearance soothing in contrast to her fiancé’s.

“You can just call me Celica, if you’d like.” She finds it a bit stifling to be addressed by formal titles by those around the same age as her.

“Celica, then.” Rinea tugs at the hem of her petticoat. “Lord Berkut may be ah, _callous_ when it comes to his speech, but do know that he intends to help you and King Alm restore Valentia to its former glory.”

“Peace, Lady Rinea; I do. He's been working tirelessly for the people of Rigel, and I’m sure having others suddenly dismantle his policies isn't the most welcomed.” Celica pauses, expression softening. “And were it not for his aid against Duma, we may not be speaking to each other like this.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Rinea offers her a timid smile.

“Though, I don’t believe we’ve had many opportunities to talk at all.” Rinea kept to Rigel Castle often, only making appearances when Berkut was present. She’d no appetite for politics, he once said. That is why she was always absent among the council. “Tell me, what do you enjoy?”

“What I enjoy?” Rinea blinks in confusion. “Oh, um, I suppose I enjoy... dancing?”

“Dancing?”

“Yes, I find it to be an enjoyable pastime.”

“I’m glad.” Celica smiles, hoping to dissipate some of the tension between them.

She holds an admiration for Rinea for having helped Berkut resist the clutches of Duma’s power in his darkest hour with her strength. She also proved to be a valuable ally, even if she possessed an aversion to violence and slaughter. If she had not wielded a staff in spite of her trembling hands, perhaps the tide would not have changed in their favor during Duma’s twilight. Her gentleness set her apart from Berkut’s war-hungry jaws, Celica fostering a growing interest in the girl from their brief meeting.

“To tell the truth, I haven't had the chance to experience a fanciful ball or anything of the like.” Celica confesses.

“Ah, but - aren’t you a princess?” The other’s eyes widen at the unexpected admittance.

“I’ve spent more time as a priestess than a princess. At the priory, there weren’t many opportunities to dance, save for the taverns on the shore. What are they like?” She personally possesses no interest in dancing, but asks because Rinea seems to.

“They’re... delightful, I suppose.” There is a notable lack of enthusiasm in the other’s voice, the answer clearly fabricated to appeal to Celica’s curiosity.

“Truthfully?” She asks, intent to worm a real answer from her. Celica watches Rinea bite her lip.

“Well… maybe not quite so delightful as all the rumors make them out to be. They're cramped, for one. There’s not much space in a ballroom when most of the room is taken up by guests. And the guests… they only come to gossip and dawdle in their formal clothes, not dance.” Rinea’s hands clasp and unclasp again, the expression on her face discomforted by her description. “I shouldn’t complain, though. I am of a minor house, so social events are imperative for preserving our status.”

“That doesnt sound pleasant at all.” Celica thinks she’s made a mistake in dwelling on the subject, until Rinea speaks again.

“Oh, but… Lord Berkut allows us to use the ballrooms when there’s no one present. I remember the first time we danced in the castle ballroom by ourselves.” Her eyes seem to sparkle with the memory. “Rigel Castle’s ornate ballroom feels like walking into a fairy tale, and the way the music resounds is divine. When you dance in there, it feels as if… all of your worries disappear. You can simply let yourself be carried away by the music and a partner in your arms. It’s much different from dancing in a garden by yourself.”

“Oh! I apologize, Queen Anthiese.” Rinea claps one hand over her mouth in surprise. “I did not mean to prattle on in such an uncouth manner…”

“That’s quite alright, Lady Rinea. I enjoyed listening to you; actually, I’m intrigued.” Celica hums in thought. “There were times I danced with my companions as well, but I don’t believe it can measure up to what you’ve described.” She remembers Mae taking both her hands and eagerly swinging their pair around the halls of the priory until they stepped on the foot of an unwary Boey.

“Even so,” Rinea lowers her hand from her mouth. “I believe any dance is an experience to be treasured.”

“I’m afraid my experience is rather limited.” A wry smile curves Celica’s lips upward. “Though Alm was just as unversed as I when we were given the honor at our coronation. It was a pitiful affair, if I may be frank.”

“Oh my,” Rinea gasps lightly. “I suppose King Alm _did_ look a little stiff in the legs.”

Celica laughs at that, and faintly notes that the distance between them has been sewn together some.

“If you are interested, shall I teach you? My house does not have much to offer to a queen, but if I can be of service in any way I am able…” Rinea extends one hand hesitantly, as if to invite Celica for a dance.

“I’d be delighted.” Celica offers her a small curtsy and places her hand in Rinea’s.

Rinea guides them to the ballroom and Celica’s breath is taken away by the sight, and even moreso when her partner pulls her into a sudden waltz. The tempo is provided by the sweet hum of Rinea’s voice, the melody not at all stilted by her movements across the floor. Celica steps on Rinea’s feet far too many times to be considered elegant, but the other carries their dance regardless. Unlike the nearly-snuffed torches and thin cloaks, the joy of dancing warms Celica’s heart to the point she forgets she had ever been cold.

When they break apart, there is a light blush dusting Rinea’s cheeks from the exertion, her hair slightly out of place. Celica imagines she doesn’t look much better given her clumsiness. But she’s not worried about looking disheveled at the moment - in fact, she barely possesses any worries at all, her head still spinning from the dance. Rinea was right about that, at least.

“It’s getting late,” Rinea notes. Berkut and Conrad are probably done with their duel by now, though they hadn’t heard any sign from either of them. “Shall we continue this another time? Oh, that is, only if you’d like to...”

“I’d love to. It was a pleasure to learn from you, Lady Rinea.” Celica tucks one lock of hair back into place.

“Not at all. I enjoyed dancing with you as well, Queen An- ah, _Celica._ ”

The two of them exit the ballroom, Rinea less reserved as she leads Celica down the halls of the castle in search of Berkut and Conrad. The warmth from before stays with Celica as she walks through Rigel’s frigid halls - she may not be able to find a home in Rigel Castle, but she has found another companion, and that is more than enough for her.


End file.
